Moonlight Escape
by SuicideKitten
Summary: A tragic look into Ron's trials through lost love and depression. His inability to cope gets the better of him and soon, his friends and family are left to deal with his escape. *Disclaimer* I own no Harry Potter stuff, JK Rowling does! Yay.
1. Lost

"She was the only one I ever really love," he whispered softly to his reflection, eyes blankly staring into the broken mirror lying on the dirty ground in front of him. He lifted it, as one shard of glass fell off into the dew covered grass beneath him. Still keeping eye contact with the image of himself, he muttered to himself incoherently, "That's not me, that's not me." Suddenly, he heard a noise behind him. Something walking through the Dark Forest. This was the first time he'd been out here, and felt nothing. When he would usually be consumed in fear, now he felt only numb. That same thick numbness that had plagued him for months now. As the silvery moon reached its peak point in the sky, the boy decided he should go back in for now. He'd come back another time. He lifted the mirror, that was cracked because he had smashed it against a tree, and tossed it into the pitch black forest. Listening to the thud it made as it hit the ground, he dashed off to the school, his bare feet pounding against the grass. A thorn pierced his heal, but he neglected feeling the pain and carefully sneaked back into the school. As he reached his room his was gone from the grounds, leaving nothing but one shard of glass in the patch of shrubury near the forest. He pulled the small thorn from his foot and watched as a trickle of crimson blood fell softly and silently from his foot. A smile crossed his face at the sight of this. Reluctantly, he pulled a tissue from the box by his bedside and nursed his wounded foot. He then slipped under the covers, his firey red hair matted to his forehead with sweat. A sigh escaped his lips, as he firmly closed his eyes, which had dark circles forming beneath them, and turned on his side, in a futile attempt at sleep. Suddenly, something happened that hadn't for days. The boy slipped away, feeling himself actually drifting into sleep. Of course with sleep came dreams, and dreams, brought only nightmares and painful memories. But it had been too long that he'd been awake, so the boy let himself go.  
  
The boy was standing by the long table near the back of the room. It was filled with food and drinks, and decorations. In his hand he held a cup of butterbeer. He stared around the room. He was back at the Yule Ball. He was dressed in his brand new dress robes that his brother's bought him, and his scarlet hair was slicked back in an elegant way. Still, he stood alone, back against the wall as all the other happy couples danced around him. His best friend Harry, with his love Cho Chang, and Hermione, his true love, with her long time beau, Viktor Krum. As the boy's ears began to grow crimson with fury, his rage was interrupted by someone else. "Ron!" She yelled fervently. "Ron, hey!" It was Hermione. Her beautiful hair had been pulled up into an elegant bun atop her head, with two curled strips framing her face. She wore beautiful periwinkle dress robes. She ran with such grace, Ron had to let out a smile. "Hey, Ron, why aren't you dancing?" Ron stared at her blankly. "There's no one I want to dance with," he replied. "Come on, there's got to be someone," Hermione questioned. Ron looked away growing rouge, "There is. But she's already with someone else." At this Hermione looked to the floor, realizing his implication. She knew of his "crush" on her. Quickly, she changed the subject. "The decorations are lovely, aren't they?" Ron mumbled a response. Hermione thought for a second. "Well," she said, "Viktor went for a walk with one of his old friend's who he hasn't seen for years. I suppose they'll be catching up for quite a bit. How about you and I go out for a walk around the campus. It's so beautiful at night. We can talk for a bit." Ron was reluctant, fearing that Hermione was unknowingly leading him on. Then he though, 'She's my friend. Even if she doesn't feel the same for me as I do for her, she's still my friend.' He looked up into her eyes. "Sure," he said with a smile. The two walked out into the night, under the stars, both with their eyes on the ground. "So, what happened to your date, if you don't mind me asking. You did come with that nice blonde girl from Hufflepuff, what was her name?" "Geraldine. Yeah, I came with her, but, she was bored with me and left about an hour into the night." Hermione bit her upper lip. "Oh, I'm sorry Ron." Ron smiled, "It's alright, she was just a last resort anyway. I mean, she was very pretty, but I had my eye after someone else who was already taken, anyway." There was an awkward pause in the conversation. "Well, anyhow, it's a beautiful night. I'm glad we came out here." The two paused at a patch of slightly taller grass near a tree by the edge of the forest. "Yeah me too," Ron replied. "So how are things between you and-" "Viktor? Oh, fine. Just fine." Hermione quickly searched her mind, wanting to change the subject of conversation, but Ron went on. "So, you're really happy, are you?" "Yes." "I only ask because I'm worried about you Hermione." She rolled her eyes. "Ron, you have no reason to worry. I know you're a little, jealous-" "I am not jealous!" "Oh all right. All I'm saying is Viktor is a great guy and he'd never do, anything, to-" Hermione had spotted her boyfriend over Ron's shoulder. He was sitting on a bench, kissing another girl. "I think, I'm, oh-" Hermione burst into tears. Ron, looked at her, completely lost and shocked. "I'm sorry, did I say something wrong. Viktor is a great guy. I'm sorry. Don't cry, Hermione." All Hermione did was point to Viktor. Ron turned to see the source of Hermione's tears. Instantly he dashed across the yard to the two, face matching his hair in colour, anger showing in his eyes. Without thinking, he grabbed Viktor by the colar, swung him around in his seat and punched him as hard as he could. He knocked Viktor Krum out cold. Shocked at this great feat, Ron then turned his anger on the homewrecker, and began to choke her. He was stopped by Hermione's hand on his shoulder and a slew of people who had come off the dance floor to see the commotion. Ron shook his head and lept up from his seat. The girl was terrified and grasping onto her now red neck. Ron took Hermione by the hand and ran her off to the tree they were just at. She looked at him, with tears in her eyes. "Thanks," she said wiping away a tear with the back of her hand. He looked up at her, and touched her bottom lip with his thumb. "No problem,"he said and leaned in for a kiss. She hessitated at first, but then closed her eyes and leaned in as well, pressing her soft pink lips to his is a passionate first kiss. Carefully, he then slipped his tongue into her mouth, which both slightly shocked and aroused Hermione, who went along with it. They stayed there a long time that night, kissing and holding each other.  
  
Suddenly, Ron was jolted out of his sleep. A smile was on his face. Then a tragic look came over him when he realized where he was. It had all happened, and it should have made his life wonderful. But instead, it only made it worse. Sinking him ever deeper into the depression that had been consuming his life for years. Hermione and Ron had that one night. Then, the next day, a tearfilled Hermione came to Ron to tell him that Viktor, told Hermione the whole story of what really happened that night. That the girl was his friend, and they were just sitting there talking, when suddenly, she kissed him and he was so surprised he didn't know how to react at first. And Hermione accepted his story. Hermione looked down at the ground when she said, "Ron, a part of me will always love you. You're a great friend and at one time, I thought of you as more than just a friend. That part of me took over last night. But, Ron, you can understand, I love Viktor. And I have to forgive him, I just have to. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-" At this she turned and ran the other way. That was the last time they had spoken. As Ron sat in his bed, remembering, tears began to form in his own eyes. "It's not fair," he muttered to himself. Then he screamed into his pillow, praying no one would hear, "It's not FAIR!" He began to sob uncontrollably. 


	2. No One Noticed

"Hey, Ron! Come on, wake up," Harry shouted through the door to their bedroom. "Wake up sleepy head," One of the other boys chanted. Ron glanced up, and, through a blurry vision, saw them standing in the doorway, fully dressed. He rubbed his eyes and lazily rolled out of bed. "Yeah, yeah, I'm comin', gimme a minute of privacy will ya'?" "Yeah okay, but hurry, we're all going into Hogsmeade for the carnival. We'll meet you down stairs." They all turned to go, but Ron stopped them. "Wait a second. Um, I don't think I'll be going." Harry came into the room, a very concerned look on his face. Ron turned away, to look out the window. "Are you feeling okay, Ron?" "Oh, yeah. I'm fine. I just, well I don't really feel like going out today. I haven't been sleeping too well lately, and I'm a bit tired." The other boys accepted this explaination and ran to the common room shouting, "Suit yourself!" and "Hey, more candy and prizes for us!" and "See ya later", but Harry stuck behind a second, worry spread across his face. "Are you sure you're-" "I'm fine," Ron said abruptly and rather aggressively. He quickly changed his tone and turned to face Harry. "I'm fine. Really. You go on and have fun. I'll be fine here." This was slightly more convincing. Harry reluctantly turned and then said, "Well, if you change your mind, you know were to find us." And at that Harry left, closing the door behing him. Ron looked down at the ground. He then lifted his head and stumbled sleepily into the bathroom. Still rubbing his eyes and scratching the back of his neck, Ron took off his pajamas and slipped into the shower. He turned the dial as cold as it would go and shivered as the icy water hit him with great force. He closed his eyes and embraced the water spraying against his face. Blindly, he reached for the shampoo, but it slipped and fell onto the wet tile floor. Ron reached down for it, and winced as he caught a glimpse of his arm. It was covered in gashes and scars. He grabbed the bottle of shampoo and replaced it on the shelf. A saddened look in his eyes, he now looked down at both of his arms, which matched, grotesquely filled with scars, that Ron had made himself. For a few years now Ron had been very depressed. It was consuming. He didn't feel his life was worth living. He was poor, unpopular, stupid, ugly and no one loved him. Ron had convinced himself that these were facts. The scars only further proved this. He'd begun cutting himself a year ago. He would sit up in his bed at night, or out on the grass on Hogwart's grounds, and hold his sharpened silver razor, which sparkled in the moonlight, and cut into his pale skin, watching the crimson liquid pour from his veins. This filled him with a sadistic kind of happiness that was the greatest feeling he had felt since the times when he was a child, blissfully ignorant to the wicked ways of the world. He did this often, and it showed. Now, he could have magically made the scars go away, but he had kept them in the hopes someone would notice, that someone would care. Yet no one had noticed. For a whole year no one saw the product of the emmense pain Ron had suffered. Pushing these memories and thoughts from his mind, Ron reached for the shampoo and began to lather his thick orange hair. 


	3. Release

After the incident with Hermione, Ron had chosen not to harp on its events. Instead, he pretended nothing happened, even though he very rarely spoke to Hermione and he never looked at her. Still, she took this as some sort of forgiveness and merrily went on as if nothing had happened. Harry, Ron and Hermione were seated at the long lunch table, Harry and Ron facing Hermione. She let out a loud sigh, as if wanting to be noticed. "What's wrong?" Harry asked. Ron kept poking his mashed potatoes with a fork, not looking up from his plate. Hermione gave Ron a glance and then replied, "Nothing. It's just that I haven't heard from," she paused, now a bit concerned, and looked towards Ron who maintained eye contact with his plate, "Viktor." Ron winced silently, but luckily no one noticed. "He's never waited this long to write me. Maybe he's sick, or hurt, or-" "Dead?" Ron said with a smirk. "That's not funny. With, You Know Who lurking about," she paused and sighed again, "I don't know." Harry smiled. "I'm sure he's fine. You never usually over react like this. You must really be, in love." "Well, yes, I am," Hermione smiled back. This was all too much for Ron. He took in a deep breath and said, still staring down, "I'm not very hungry. Think I'll go back to my room and do some reading." He attempted to leave without someone saying anything. "Skipping lunch to read? Now I'm really worried about you Ron," Harry said, half joking. "Really, I'm fine. I'm just not hungry. I think I've been a little sick lately." At this Ron swung around and half ran back up to his room. However, Ron, wasn't fine. Ron, was anything but fine. Still, he did do some reading, or at least, pretended to be reading. Really, he was just staring at the words, not comprehending one of them. Suddenly, an urge came over him. It was an overpowering tingling sensation. He needed it.  
  
Ron pulled another book off the stand beside his bed. It opened to a page that contained, a sharp, silver razor. Ron pulled this out and held it in his right hand, his left arm overturned, and pale, vein filled flesh exposed. His hand trembled slightly, as tears were forming in his eyes. He knew he needed to stop but he couldn't. It was addicting. Resting the blade against his skin, Ron pressed it consistantly harder, eventually piercing the flesh. Closing his eyes, tears burst into streams down his cheeks and he tore into his skin as quick and hard as he could. Upon opening his eyes, seconds later, a pool of crimson had already begun to pour from the wound. He ran into the bathroom, right hand under his arm, to catch the flowing blood. He let his arm fall into the pallid bathroom sink and watched as the scarlet fluid drained from him. It felt wonderful. An indescribable sensation, that made him feel strong, and powerful. Elated. It made him feel happy. He watched the streams that grew a lighter shade of red. The blood almost looked fake. Ron gave a moan as he heard someone coming up the stairs to the bedroom. He reached for the toilet paper and tried to pull as much off as he could as quickly as he could. With an urgent twinkle in his eyes his scrambled to cover the wound and wash the blood in the sink down the drain. He dashed into the corner of the bathroom and hid in the towel closet. Someone came in. It was Neville Longbottom. Ron let out a sigh. He thought it would be Harry. Then his eyes widened. Ron had left the razor out on the sink ledge. Neville spotted it. He eyed it and then picked it up. Twirling it around in his fingers he accedentally pricked his finger. "Ow," he screamed, "Why is it always me?" At this he threw the razor in the trash bin and ran out of the room off to the nurse. Ron sighed with relief and went to collect the razor from the garbage. He placed it back in the book he usually left it in and crawled into bed. He was still tired and he was finding that he could only sleep in the day time. He shut his eyes and drifted off.  
  
Ron saw himself lying on a tattered old bed in the middle of a dark room. He was chained to the bed with metal handcuff that cut into his wrists and ankles. "Help me. Help me, please," he kept saying. He saw Percy, his older brother, walk up to him. "Percy, please, help me." Percy's eyes turned red and he lifted his hand. In it he held a long, sharp butcher's knife. Percy let his hand come down with considerable force and as the blade pierced Ron's shoulder, he screamed in agony. "Percy, why?" He yelled out, terror shaking his voice. Then he saw his mother come out, as Percy silently turned away. "Mum, Percy's gone mad. Mum?" She too, had a glazed look, only her eyes turned a dark yellow. She raised her arm and wacked Ron with a wooden bat. He let out a muffled howl of pain. "Please stop. Someone come and help me, please." He was crying now. Next it was Harry's turn. Only, he came up to the opposite side of Ron's bed. All he held was his wand. His eyes looked normal, but more stern than usual. He rose his wand. "Yes Harry. Thankyou. Thankyou. Please, help me, everyone's gone crazy." Except Harry did not point his wand at Mrs. Weasly or Percy. He pointed it at Ron. He muttered "Crucio" and Ron shivered with unimaginable pain. Finally it stopped and Harry stepped aside. "Why, Harry, why," Ron said between histerical sobs. He was shaking and hiccuping with fear and pain. Finally, Hermione came up to the foot of his bed, with nothing but a pillow clenched between her hands. She smiled, the most awful and terrifying smile Ron had ever seen. He could see her eyes gleam with evil. She rose the pillow and lept onto him. Her knees rested at each of his sides. She rose the pillow higher and then, bam. The pillow came down with a dark swiftness. Hermione held it over his face as tightly as she could. Ron felt dizzy. He began to gasp for breath. She pressed the pillow harder. Ron couldn't breathe, he gasped for breath frantically and vehemently began thrashing his arms and legs about him. Then, suddenly, his eyes began to close and he felt his body relax. He made a last attempt to breathe and then-  
  
"Aaaahhh!" Ron screamed as he flung out of my bed in a hot sweat. His whole body tingled and he began to pinch himself and touch his arms and legs frantically, making sure he was alive. Ron took in a deep and needed breath and crawled back under the covers of his bed. All he did was lie there, on his side, staring at the wall, for twenty minutes. He was contemplating his dream. Why did his loved ones try to kill him? What did it mean? Ron didn't want to know. He didn't care. He was in pain. Psycologial pain. It felt more prominant than ever. It was all because of the dream. At the time, he was terrified. But then, lying there in bed, Ron felt regret. Why did he wake up? Why didn't he just let his breath go? This was all too much for him. Ron lept from his bed and ran out the door and through the school. He soon reached the outside world. Directing his freckled face upward, he embraced the dark purple sky, which was filled will glittering diamonds and a cloud covered ball of pale silver light. He began to walk with his head upturned, each step lying flat on the cold grass. Suddenly, Ron felt a sharp pain in his foot. He looked down. It was the shard of mirror that Ron had left about a week ago. He felt his hand move toward it. The sky had set Ron in a sort of daze, with it's vast beauty. He was enraptured. By the sky, the dream, his ever growing depression. Ron lifting the glittering pieced of reflection. It looked like someone had frozed a river and broken off a piece for him. Without thinking, Ron pulled the glass up to his throat and pressed the glass into it. He took in one last breath and looked upward to the sky. His last thought was that this spot, where he was standing, was the place where he first kissed his true love. At that, Ron pulled the glass across his neck. Immeadiately, an army of blood poured voraciously from his neck. He gasped for breath, clutching his slit open neck. He tried to swallow and choked out a muffled yell. Gasping and gurgling, he fell to the floor and died, staring into the moonlight. 


End file.
